


Copper

by Irilde



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irilde/pseuds/Irilde
Summary: "There’s something to be said about the colour of copper. That rancid, acid smell that would cut through cloth and leather, and get into your nose, under your fingernails and coat your hair. It’s harsh, it’s unpleasant. It’s familiar. It’s honest."Celebrimbor loving too much, and searching desperately for redemption.
Relationships: Annatar/Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24
Collections: Tolkien Secret Santa 2019





	Copper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrohir podfic (elrohir)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrohir/gifts).



> My gift to elrohir for the official Tolkien Secret Santa. Celebrimbor/Annatar is not pairing I actually write for (or think about), so that was a bit of a challenge for me, and a welcome one. I did not want it to be too angsty, because that would spoil the mood for the holiday season, but hey? Is there a way to write this pairing without pain, and/or impending doom?

There’s something to be said about the colour of copper. That rancid, acid smell that would cut through cloth and leather, and get into your nose, under your fingernails and coat your hair. It’s harsh, it’s unpleasant. It’s familiar. It’s honest.

******

“There’s something not quite honest to him”  
Gil-Galad is too much of a diplomat to outright say dishonest.  
“I know you admire him. And rightly so, for he is the finest craftsman I have ever seen but there is a cruelty in him… Celebrimbor, be careful.”

******

Celebrimbor has to agree. He has seen Annatar being cruel, cold and cutting. Has seen how ferociously he strikes the anvil. Has seen him crying tears of rage. Has seen him lost, broken, in the throes of despair. Celebrimbor has lost the count of how many times he has found him sleepless. Hungry and agitated. Curled in a corner, a small metal trinket in his hands. Polishing, filing the imperfections, correcting an invisible flaw again and again and again, until there was nothing left of his work but a pile of grainy steely dust at his feet. Annatar would then throw his hands in the air, and a ferocious glare to Celebrimbor, as if to say: “I don’t care. I’m not phased. Everything’s going according to the plan.” Which made Celebrimbor laugh, and want to cry a little because he knew what it was like when the blessed perfection eluded you, when your mind had tricked you, or the other way round, and you were left with your failing body and your crude, inadequate hands.

Then Celebrimbor would come to him, take his hand, say “I know”, and kiss him. “I know your sufferings. I know your doubts. I know what hides behind that face. I know who’s behind that posture. Annatar, the Master of Gifts. I know and I love you all the same. You don’t have to be perfect with me. And that thing you were working on, it doesn’t matter if or when you get it. In a week, a month, a year. Maybe never, and you know what? You don’t have to. I’ll love you all the same. But I trust you, I have faith in you, and tomorrow you’ll get it. I know.”

******

“You still have not given me one good reason, why I should trust him.”  
“I don’t know what to tell you Galadriel. You’re the only one that doesn’t, and nothing I can say will make you change your mind. “  
“Not the only one. Gil-Galad is as wary as I am. Celeborn certainly doesn’t trust him.”  
Celeborn is paranoid, and feels uncomfortable having his wife live so far from him, and so closes to dwarves. Why you would continue to follow his advice when he’s so obviously prejudiced is beyond me, Celebrimbor thought. He kept his mouth shut.  
“He is from the Valar, and has indeed, bestowed us many gifts.”  
“No he is not.”  
“You would refuse the gifts of the Valar? Oh, Artanis. I thought you had outgrown that.”

“No he is not from the Valar”  
“He isn’t” conceded Celebrimbor. “He is like us. On our side. As much from the Valar as we are. Trust me Galadriel. “

******

It smelt of burnt copper and iron in every room. His eyes were burning. His back was aching his lungs were scorched by the furnace in the workshop. He could taste the iron on his tongue. His blood and Annatar’s whenever he could draw it in their frenzied unions. They were working. Together. And Celebrimbor dared dreaming again.

“I wish this moment would never end” he confessed late at night when they were both safely ensconced in their bed.  
“It doesn’t have to” answered Annatar, wrapping himself around his lover.  
“When the world was younger and beautiful and innocent still, I would have believed you.”  
Celebrimbor smiled and kissed Annatar’s forehead. I wish I’d known you back then.”  
“You wouldn’t have liked me then”, mumbled Annatar.  
Valinor was the only subject they never spoke of. It was too painful for the both of them.  
“I wish I could keep them. All those moments sleeping away through my fingertips.”  
“I must confess there are times when I dream of extracting that pleasure, the pleasure we share together, and setting in a jewel. Like those butterflies sealed in these drops of amber Narvi gave you. Forever there for me to remember. Your face. Your voice calling me. Your arms clutching me.”  
Annatar grabbed Celebrimbor hands, intertwining their fingers.  
“Time passes. But not for everyone. Not for us. We won’t let it. Think about our work. We can be the gardeners of this world. Keeping it safe. Pure. Preserved.”  
“Feänor managed to capture the essence of the light of the Trees. Look what happened. And I am not my grandfather.”  
“You’re not. You’re better than him. And your work will surpass even my gifts.”  
Celebrimbor tried to argue and was silenced by a kiss.  
“You will heal us all”

******

“I hoped to find you there” said Galadriel.  
Alone was the unspoken word. She spoke very slowly, and very kindly, as if to a child.  
“You have to be honest Celebrimbor. With yourself, if not with us. You know who Annatar is. You’ve seen more of him than we have.”

Celebrimbor remained silent; his mouth tightly shut.

“He’s a liar. He could not have come from Valinor. I don’t have to know him to say the truth. There’s something about him. He is too far removed from the Undying Lands.”  
“You’re right. You don’t know anything about him.” And Celebrimbor exploded  
“Yes I know he’s lying about his past! Yes I know he was on the other side, during the Great War.”  
“The other side! Celebrimbor, listen to yourself! It wasn’t about sides. It was everyone who ever wanted to live against the Enemy!”  
“I know all of that. I’ve thought about it. I know that a being like him, a Maia could hardly have been just a soldier, just one of the many heads of the Enemy’s legions. I know all of that and more. And so what? Here I am! Working with him. Sharing my bread and my roof with him. Sharing my dreams and my hopes. You think you know him so well, don’t you? You think you know us all so well! Mighty Galadriel, wise beyond her years. Truly, Melian’s worthy heir. Tell me do the Sindar know about your unofficial title at Gil-Galad’s court? Has Elrond ever said anything about it? So what if he has done unspeakable things? Haven’t we all? Who are we, Noldor, to judge? You’re not the only one that’s fleeing her past. But you can have a second chance, and the others cannot?”  


“Celebrimbor. You are of my blood. And because of that… And despite that, I love you. I would help you if I could. If you allowed me to.”  
“Of my blood. I am of Feänor’s blood. And yet you will tolerate me. You will have me at your table. You will praise my craft because I have repudiated my father and my lineage. You trusted me. Did you ever regret it?”  
“Oh Celebrimbor! We never did. I never did. “  
“I can be many things. But I will not be a judge. Nor an executioner. I don’t have the right. And I wouldn’t want it. I know him. And he has changed Galadriel. He’s not the being he once was. You have not seen it but believe me when I say he’s atoning. And he is going to redeem himself. You just wait to see it.”  
Galadriel’s puzzled expression had disappeared, replaced by one of infinite sadness.  
“No one doubts you. Celebrimbor. We only doubt him. I do not want you to be hurt. No one will ever blame you for being wrong. “  


There were tears running down Celebrimbor’s face.  
“He can be saved, Galadriel. I know he can. I was pardoned. And if I was, he can be too. And I will help him. I cannot be the only one redeemed. And he is just like me.”  
Galadriel took her cousin’s hands and kissed them.  
“No, he is not.”  


******

Her name was Lôminzil. She was one the most promising craftsmen of Numenor. Along with ten other younglings, she had been sent to Eregion, to train under the Gwaith-I-Mirdain.  
“That’s astonishing isn’t it?”  
Celebrimbor liked to young woman. She had the spark. She was eager to learn, and eager to train.  
“What is?”

“The smell of copper. Turns out, it was our own smell all along. The reaction between to metal and the oils produced by our skin makes the copper a conductor for our body odours.”


End file.
